Quick Release
by ardavenport
Summary: Obi-Wan has to decide. A spiced-up AU of the whole Obi-Wan/Duchess Satine thing that showed up in b The Clone Wars /b cartoon; it was a dumb sub-plot because it was such a copy of Anakin and Padme. But Obi-Wan was once young.


**QUICK RELEASE**

by ardavenport

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><p>It was a warm, humid night. Even more-so in the shadows of the backseat of the speeder. Dingy, yellowish light shone through the small rear-window, rhythmically highlighting her pale skin, her flaxen hair as she rose and fell with him. His hips pressed into the soft curved parts of her and his long, thin braid fell across her face. Gasping, her pale eyes blind to all but their mutual pleasure, her tongue caught the end of the braid, her teeth flashing white on it.<p>

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, in synchrony with hers. Faster . . . . faster . . . . running . . . . running . . . . closer . . . . closer . . . . the Force!

He froze, his hands clamping down so hard on her shoulders she cried out, convulsing, her ecstasy peaking.

Air hissed, whistling loudly as the canopy of the speeder unlatched and retracted, exposing them to the night sky. When it was barely halfway back, a large dark shape landed in the pilot's seat in front of them. The whole speeder bobbed with the sudden increase in weight. The engines whined, powering up, the control displays flashing on.

Qui-Gon Jinn turned his head, his face a shadowed profile around the headrest.

"Obi-Wan."

Fumbling, they disengaged; their moment evaporated, leaving them merely hot and sweaty and sticky. The accelerator clicked and they were briefly pushed back further off-balance before the speeder grav fields compensated.

Obi-Wan pulled his pants up, his hands shaking on the closure as he pushed himself forward between the two seats and into the front passenger side. Still in the shadows in the back seat, Satine hunched her pale shoulders together as she pulled up the straps of her under-dress while keeping her forearms close over her exposed breasts.

The speeder zoomed up and out of the garden district, tilting as it swerved between city towers. Obi-Wan glimpsed a scatter of black shapes, a swarm of attack droids veering after them.

"Obi-Wan."

One hand still on the stick, eyes forward, Qui-Gon held his other hand out to the side, palm up. Obi-Wan's lightsaber flew up between the seats into it. Satine jerked one bare leg away from the weapon as it went by. Obi-Wan took it.

Wind whipping his Padawan braid around his head, he stood and faced the attackers as the first yellow blaster bolts whizzed past. The lightsaber ignited as he swept the fiery blue blade before him, catching two bolts. The energy of the weapon hummed like a living thing, the Force flowing through his body. Rooting his feet solidly in place, he braced his knees against the seat as the speeder swooped and dove, evading most of the fire while Obi-Wan's whirling blade caught any deadly energy bolts that got through, deflecting them away from Satine, Qui-Gon, himself. One, then another ricochet from his saber blade exploded against two attack droids and their flaming remnants fell away from the group.

Constantly adjusting his stance with Qui-Gon's evasive piloting, Obi-Wan filled his lungs deeply; the cool, clammy sweat on his bare chest and back evaporated in the air rushing past and the heat of the Force.

Satine flattened herself between the front and back seats, hiding as much of her unprotected body as possible. Two speeder bikes joined the attack droids, the riders in Death Watch body armor and helmets, gray and blue, faces defined only as black, horizontal eye slits.

Satine cried out but kept her place as the speeder suddenly plummeted underneath a rocket that exploded into a building, but the second one veered off, orange jets making a wide circle as it reacquired them.

The speeder engines revved higher, straining for speed as the rocket quickly closed on them. But Obi-Wan stayed ready, his saber up horizontal to the speeder, his eyes on the two Mandalorian warriors even as the background behind them shifted crazily from their own reflection in the sides of the towers they zoomed past, to ground, to night sky, aglow pale orange from the city lights.

The speeder accelerated and suddenly swerved upward, engines squealing with a smell of burnt plastoid. The second rocket exploded into a fireball against another building, a few flaming fragments bouncing off their speeder. At the same time, Obi-Wan's saber whirled up, down, back.

The Mandalorian on the right, arched backward, the ricochet blaster bolt to his neck sending him spinning off his bike into the darkness below. The second warrior looked toward where his comrade fell.

He hesitated.

Obi-Wan resumed his defensive stance, saber blade humming ominously over his head.

Head down, the remaning Mandalorian pressed his heels down on the side pedals of the bike. He quickly advanced.

The speeder's engines shrieked as Qui-Gon sent them suddenly into reverse. Obi-Wan's blue blade severed the warrior's head as they careened past each other. It bounced off the back seat and away. Satine put her arms over her head.

The speeder and headless body dropped back, hitting two trailing attack droids in a mid-air fireball and spinning the last one out of control to crash into the clear-plas side of a building, sending huge glinting shards in all directions.

The speeder righted itself, Qui-Gon flying it level, and Obi-Wan exhaled, his shoulders dropping, but his saber still held vertical. He scanned the city around them, but he sensed no more pursuit, the immediate danger past. The speeder slowed. Qui-Gon turned to the right and lower, heading back toward the palace.

Four police speeders zoomed up, one of them signaling a warning that they were out past the curfew set by the government. But the lead police officer recognized them as Jedi and Duchess Satine as their passenger. Her dress and formal headdress now back in place, she sat up in the rear seat, her face sternly expressionless as she waved a hand signal to the police. They formed an escort, but Obi-Wan remained standing, his lightsaber ready.

They turned onto the major boulevard, their destination, the palace, at the far end. A few police and military transports and fighters passed above and below as they went, but there was no other traffic. Qui-Gon piloted the speeder into the guarded entry hangar and glided to a stop, security shields humming back into place behind them. The police speeders veered off to resume their patrol, leaving them to palace security.

Extinguishing his lightsaber, Obi-Wan automatically tried to clip it to his belt. But he wasn't wearing one. Qui-Gon was already out and helping the Duchess step up and out of the back seat; she pulled up her long blue and green skirts with one hand while steadying herself on Qui-Gon's arm. Bare feet on the cold, smooth platform, Obi-Wan walked around the speeder to join them. His robe, tunics and the rest of his clothes were piled up behind the front passenger seat.

"Duchess." Qui-Gon folded his arms before him and inclined his head. "I regret that we left you exposed to this danger. I fear that we have stayed here too long to be effective and that you should request that the Jedi Temple send replacements to protect you."

Uniformed guards and sentry droids ran in, taking defensive positions as if something might penetrate the shields. One sergeant spoke into a wrist com, summoning the Duchess's advisers and head of security.

Obi-Wan stared intently at Qui-Gon, who kept his gaze on the Duchess. His Master had been aware of their relationship, almost as soon as they were. He had advised his seventeen year-old apprentice to avoid any emotional entanglements with Satine, a woman thirteen years his senior and the leader of the Mandalorian government, currently fighting a civil war. But his Master had not forbidden him from seeing her, only warned him of the danger from Death Watch assassins and to be mindful of his vows to the Jedi Order.

Obi-Wan looked down at the lightsaber, black and silver, in his right hand, his palm curved around the hilt, so familiar and comfortable there that he would forget he held it. His eyes looked up again . . . .

. . . . and caught Satine watching him, her calculating eyes going toward his lightsaber. Her expression calm and sad, she turned back to the older Jedi.

"Yes, of course, Master Qui-Gon, whatever you think is best."

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><p><strong> o o END o o<br>**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>This story first posted on tf.n on - - - . All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to George and Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.


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